Sometimes the World Stops
by PhoenixCaptain
Summary: And when it does - it rips everything away. In its wake there is only darkness. [Twilight Princess; oneshot]


(Sometimes…)

He, a simple farm-boy, carefree and happy, strands of sunlight ever caught in his hair, and the sky sings in his eyes. To him - _everything_ is beautiful.

She, his best friend, her eyes a verdant forest that sparkle just like sunlight streaming through the trees.

He, a simple man, perhaps - but he basks in that simplicity. In his wife's quiet humming. In his son's timid smiles. In the little stream that laughs as it runs past his family's humble cottage.

She, the princess of light, of laughter and joy. Day claims her as its own. She lets it. The people love her, and she loves them back.

She, ruler of another realm, content in her twilit palace. And she smirks and teases and laughs with her friends. A happy life. One she wouldn't change for anything.

(…the world stops.)

But then - a shroud of eternal twilight falls. The sun hides, and the moon covers her face, and not even stars glimmer in this cruel expanse of endless orange.

It's like rust, he thinks - like decay and death and eerie, echoing silence. Silence shouldn't echo. But it does. And he never sleeps.

She doesn't know anything. Not where she came from, how she got here, or even her own name. She shudders, entirely alone, in the everlasting darkness.

His son is gone. Cruel, ugly beasts cackle at him, _taunt_ him, and he fights. Even when they tear at his skin. Even when they surround him, and he is alone. Even when they knock him down and he can barely breathe.

Silence chills her. There used to be laughter, she thinks, endless spirited chatter and singing and dancing - but now there is nothing. Only quiet death. She wraps a black cloak around her frail, shivering body to hide from the cold.

No friends. No palace. No comfort. Only a stupid little wolf that won't listen to her, even when an entire realm full of innocent people depends on his actions. She tells him to hurry. To go, please, Goddesses, just _go,_ but he won't and - and she hates him. Oh how she _despises_ him.

(And when it does -)

The stains of blood etched into his skin feel far too heavy. And _nothing_ is beautiful. Not anymore. Dirt catches in his hair, and darkness flickers in his eyes, and a silver sword flashes through his enemy's chest. He is a simple goatherd. Nothing more. And yet still, _still,_ the word "hero" clings to his legs, trips him, brings him crashing down into the deepest shadows and - he won't ever come back.

She wants to remember - something, _anything,_ but there's nothing. All she knows is blackness. And even when she sees _him,_ she still doesn't remember. But she knows him. Or she did once, long ago, and she tries with all her might to remember. It never works.

He feels so useless. All he can do is lie there on his couch, bandages wrapped around a dozen bleeding wounds, as his wife sobs nearby him. He wants to comfort her. To say everything will be all right. But he doesn't want to lie.

She can only watch as nothingness envelops her once-beautiful kingdom. As a tyrant sits on her throne and demons from the realm of darkness itself slaughter her people. She is helpless. And she's never hated herself more. In a moment of weakness and of loneliness, she collapses to the icy stone beneath her and sobs. Nobody hears her in this empty world.

She hates the man that cursed her. She might have been a powerful warrior, if it weren't for him. Now she's forced to rely on a stupid farm-boy who doesn't know anything, all because she can't do a single thing for herself. But maybe that boy isn't so bad. Sometimes she looks at him and offers a genuine smile, and he always smiles back. It helps her forget about her forsaken world, even if only for a second.

(- it rips everything away.)

He, the man who lost his wife, who watched his village _burn_ at the hands of demons -

She, the daughter of a healer, helpless in the face of attack, and she could only watch her father dig countless graves -

She, the loving mother, the benevolent queen, beheaded in front of her people as an example of that monster's power -

He, the young prince, torn from his home and his mother, sick and dying in a foreign land, powerless to help the people she loved so deeply -

They, innocent citizens of a once-peaceful realm, cursed into mindless beasts that can't help obeying their cruel master's will, even when it means murdering their closest friends -

(In its wake)

He survived, somehow. Perhaps it would have been better to fall in battle. Sometimes all he wants to do is curse the cruel Goddesses for everything they did - for turning an innocent boy into a war-hardened man, because now, nothing is the same. He can't simply return to that life of herding goats and tending crops. Not when nightmares of slaughter still plague him. And not when she isn't there anymore to guide him.

She wonders what she could have changed. What she could have done differently. Because he doesn't look at her the same way anymore, not even now, when she finally remembers _everything_ and all she wants to do is hug him. To know who he is again. But he won't let her.

Things are too different now. His son has returned, his wife is safe, and he comes home from battle to meet a brand-new baby girl. He laughs, and joy swells in his heart - but even when he holds his wife and children close, he looks, and notices someone leaving - a boy, once a simple goatherd, now a warrior. And he never returns.

Shadows dance in the corners of her bedchambers. She tries to ignore them, but she can't, because even though the sun shines down upon her once again, still she remembers the chill of the darkness, and the terrible silence. Nightmares gnaw the flesh from her bones, and all that's left is thin, sallow skin, and her people no longer admire the frail princess who jumps at her own shadow.

She grew to care for him, somehow. And now he's gone. She left, because she had to, but sometimes she hates herself for it. She sits hollowly upon her twilit throne, dull face and dull eyes, and sometimes her people wonder if she's lost her mind.

Nothing is ever quite the same. Even when people laugh and chatter about mindless, pleasant things, even when they smile and even when they feel genuine happiness for the first time in a long time… Always there's another new headstone - or a dozen - in the graveyards. Always there's the absence of loved ones, and only grief and emptiness in their place. And always the twilight falls.

(there is only darkness.)

* * *

 **A/N: So I had to do _something_ in honor of the ninth anniversary of Twilight Princess, as well as the announcement of its HD remake. Unfortunately I forgot about it until now, so I hurriedly barfed up some words and... here we are. xP Sorry that it's super messy and jumpy and all-around strange; this _was_ rather last-minute, after all. As for the tone, well, I was originally going to have it end on a hopeful note, but then I got carried away and this happened? I dunno. Sorry.**


End file.
